​​​​​​Dina Greenberg

Jeff lay on his cot in the early morning darkness. Rodriguez and Peters were still asleep, snoring lightly. He thought about Lisa, back in their little bungalow in Portland. He shuffled through the time zones, figured she’d already given the twins their baths and put them to bed. He pictured her sacked out on the couch, exhausted, flipping through the TV channels, braless, her full breasts and nipples outlined against one of his T-shirts.

He knew he should be missing her and the kids, but he just couldn’t feel it. The last time they’d talked by phone, he couldn’t wait to get off the line. She’d seemed antsy, too. He was grateful when Tyler started crying, then Ethan, and Lisa said she needed to go and fix them something to eat.

Breach

Gemini Magazine, ​March 2016